


The Shackled Hut

by JackBivouac



Series: Reign of Winter [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Bestiality, Bondage, Breastfeeding, Choking, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Group Sex, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Lactation, M/M, Multi, Other, Prison Sex, Rape, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-23 18:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: The adventures of Gen and Sen in the land of the winter witches





	1. Chapter 1

Dawn. Two women clothed from head to toe in mismatched furs stumbled ever weaker over the endless white plains. Icy winds and driving snow blasted them from every direction. 

With near zero visibility, Gen tripped over a bank of quill-like icicles spearing outward. The smaller icicles snapped. The larger stabbed through her furs, piercing her flesh.

Gen shrieked in pain, impaled on the ice. Her blood froze upon the icicles. The raging snows swallowed her screams.

Sen had neither seen nor heard. She slipped on the heavy sheet of ice underfoot, slamming into a giant, icicle-shaped monolith. Her head conked against the stone. White stars burst in her eyes.

Sen fell, backward, onto the quills. Icicles punched through her chest and arms. Sen’s head dropped back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her limbs twitched as every second inched her body further down the frozen pales.

A sudden surge of wind blasted outward from the ring of monoliths and quills in a stinging spray of snow and ice. Casting out the storm.

The frozen glade plunged into deathly silence. Gen stopped her screaming, the pain of her impalement giving way to benumbed shock. She raised her head toward the center of the ring.

A horseman in coal-black armor, ram’s horns curling through their closed helm, sat astride a black warhorse. Tendrils of cold, dark mist billowed around horse and rider.

“H-help!” cried Gen.

The rider slumped in their saddle, a shard of blue ice jutting from their back. The horse dissipated into black smoke. The rider clunked face-first onto the ice.

“For fuck’s sake!”

Gen seized one of the icicles impaling her torso in either fur-gloved hand. She grunted for breath between roars of pain and pushed herself up the lengths of ice.

She fell back, bloody but free into a powdery drift. Gen shook with near hysterical tears and laughter, but forced herself to roll into her side. She crawled onto shaking arms and knees. Staggered up to her feet.

The slightest puff of wind could've knocked her flat on her ass, but the rider's deathly quiet remained in the glade. Gen stumbled toward her twin sister, trailing splats of blood.

For better or for worse, Sen was still conscious, bent backward on the frozen pales. She could not move herself without sinking further upon the ice.

Gen seized Sen by the lapels of her fur coat. Gen roared. With a mighty heave, she yanked Sen up and free of the icicles.

Her fur boots slid on the ice below. Gen and Sen crashed into the carved stone behind them. They slid to a twin slump at its base.

#*#*#*#*

All was dark but warm as well. For several breaths, the sisters were content to wallow in the precious heat, their eyes shut to the cold, uncaring world. But the ground moved under them, and that was never a good sign.

Their eyes fluttered open. The ice crystals that had landed on their lashes went flying out through the holes of an entrapping net and off the sides of the sled. 

Even their warmth belied bad news. Gen, Sen, and the hapless rider had been trussed together, rough ropes binding them around the chests and waists beneath the net. With Gen and Sen lying above, their combined weight crushed the rider below into the planks of the sled.

A whip cracked from on high, sending the team of dogs ahead running faster. The wind cut cold and sharp across the stark, white plain, stinging the eyes with no thanks to the near-blinding rays of the reflected sun. 

A great eruption of frozen ice rose on the horizon, a pale tower crowned with icicles spearing into the sky. Seemingly born of the land itself, an unbroken circular wall of ice shielded the tower’s base.

Once within the wall, the driver seized the net holding each of the three captors and dragged them over the icy courtyard into a grand and unexpectedly steamy hall.

The lazy, heated wisps bubbled from the indoor pool of a dais surrounded by six pillars of ice. Four foggy mirrors hung from the walls nearest the pool, blurring the reflections of the two occupants tangled within.

The first, Jairess, was a sylph. Her white smoke locks danced with the rising steam. Blue whorls and spirals accented the wet curves of her body.

The second, Radosek, was Master of the Pale Tower, a wizard appointed by the Lady Nazhena herself. He sported a full beard of brown hair tapered to a sharp point.

“What have we here?” asked Master Radosek in a nasal voice of disraining curiosity.

“My taxes, paid in flesh, Master Radosek,” said the sled driver. They opened the net and rolled its three, bound occupants out.

The rider, still unconscious, ended up on the bottom once more.

“Are they mages?” asked Jairess, her voice carrying on wind of it's own making straight into the ear.

“Seems not.”

“Cut them loose, then,” said the master, rolling his eyes.

The sled driver, far lower on Irrisen’s socio-economic totempole, untied them instead. They hustled out of the hall, taking net and rope for reuse.

“Let’s see you then. Take off your clothes,” said Radosek.

“I don't think so,” said Gen. “For one, we're all bloody wounded.”

“For two, I'm pretty sure this fellow's dead,” said Sen, jerking her chin at the unmoving rider.

Jairess flew up out of the water, hovering naked but threateningly over its bubbling surface. “You try the Master's patience.”

“Actually, darling, I have none to be tried.” Radosek snapped his fingers.

Twelve tentacles of steaming water surged out from the pool. They yanked the fur clothes off the twins and the armor off the ram-horned rider, revealing the face and body of an uncannily perfect elf. Not a horned elf, then, but a fey.

The tentacles didn't stop there. Each liquid limb wrapped hot and heavy around the full length of an arm or a leg. 

Gen's bound arms were stretched over her head, her ankles bent to her buttocks, and her thighs spread. Sen's arms were yanked together down the length of her spine, her legs spread under her in an erotic v. The comatose rider's arms were pinned to their sides, their legs pressed and lashed together under their dangling cock.

Radosek floated up from the pool, joining Jairess with a hairy arm around her abundant hips and ass.

“Which one do you want, darling?”

“I want Mx. Big Dick, Master,” Jairess giggled.

“My best bitch gets what she wants.” Radosek smirked and nuzzled his best bitch's neck. “I think I'll fuck the frog.”

“C-can't we talk about this?” asked Gen, squirming to no avail in the clutch of the water tentacles.

“Please, we've just taken a lot of damage,” said Sen, struggling in equal futility.

“That's right!” said Jairess. “Who can we get to fuck Miss Damaged?”

Radosek grinned and whistled.

A goat's bleat echoed from an adjoining hall. Heavy hooves clip-clopped across the carved ice tiles. A large mountain goat, Radosek's familiar Valstoi, entered the fuck ring.

The sisters broke into a chorus of hysterical 'no's.

“What gave you the idea that you have a say?” said Radosek.

Two more tentacles surged up from the water. The first coiled tight around Gen’s throat. The second plunged down Sen’s throat, its hot, thick, wet length pistoning like a cock in her mouth. The twins coughed and gagged, respectively, their protests choked down to nasal whimpers and whines.

Jairess floated to the fey rider. She sucked and rubbed their cock to erection. She floated her dripping pussy onto the head and screwed herself down its hard, thick length with a back-bending shriek of pleasure.

Gen and Sen, completely conscious, were not so lucky. Radosek floated to Gen, his dick at the level of her coughing mouth. He grabbed her head in both hands and railed his cock down her rattling shaft.

Gen immediately choked, tears blurring her sight. The pitiless master only rammed the back of her throat even harder, sending snot shooting from her nose.

The tentacles binding, controlling Sen bent her body at the hip. They continued to pummel her throat as the mountain goat reared up behind her with a hungry bleat. Valstoi’s bright red rod pierced the clenched mouth of her anus.

Sen choked and sputtered around the tentacle stuffing her throat, spittle dribbling from her quivering chin. Valstoi’s bleats reached a frenzied pitch as his reaming cock swelled in her human ass.

Radosek pulled out of Gen’s mouth. At the flick of his wrist, the tentacles twisted her body so she was tits up, her bent, bound legs spread open to the master’s cock. Radosek’s cock ripped up the pursed lips of her anus.

Gen’s hips jerked and thrashed as his dick rammed its way through her walls. Her scream was choked to a gurgle by the tentacle once around her neck now moved to stuff her throat.

Gen and Sen, stuffed and pounded from both ends, broke into spasms of wracking pain up and down the curve of their clenching spines. Each spasm pushed them further from pain into raw, mindless feeling.

Radosek and the goat’s dicks, the pummeling tentacles, raped the consciousness from the twins’ minds. The master and familiar exploded their seed into the cumsluts’ asses.

When they’d finished, Radosek and Jairess returned to the pool of a hot tub with Valstoi in tow. But they were not finished with their three new captives.

Tentacle after tentacle of steaming water filled and pistoned into every cavity--throat and anus, Gen and Sen’s slutty, dripping cunts. The bellies of all three ballooned with the full, turgid weight of pounding liquid limbs. Their unconscious bodies jerked and convulsed as though electrocuted with orgasm after forced orgasm, bleeding them of every last fiber of will and strength.


	2. Maids Mounted

Gen and Sen awoke on the floor of a dungeon cell built entirely of rock-hard blocks of ice. They were shackled to opposite walls, naked. On the wall between them hung the ram-horned fey rider. They raised their head groggily as well.

“Congratulations, you’re awake,” griped Gen.

“And alive,” added Sen. “Who are you, again?”

“My name...is Matveius,” croaked the fey. “I’m a servant of Baba Yaga, the rightful queen of all of Irrisen.”

“Irrisen?” asked Gen.

“That’s...where we are,” said Matveius, “Land of the Winter Witches. But Elvanna, her most powerful daughter, seized the throne.”

“What a hilarious misunderstanding,” snarked Sen.

“It’s really not,” said the fey, all snark having flown entirely over their head. “I barely escaped the palace with my life. I could use your help--I have to find where Elvanna’s imprisoned our queen.”

“I don’t see how we could possibly help you,” said Gen.

“But we’re just as lost and trapped as you,” said Sen. “Maybe more lost.”

“So you’ll help?”

“We’ll do what we can,” said Gen.

“You have my thanks, and my queen’s.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Sen.

Matveius had no chance to answer. A troop of guards barged into the cell, followed by the floating Jairess. Gen, Sen, and the fey were released from the shackles into...frilly black maid aprons. Their legs were hobbled with spreader bars cuffed around their ankles. Their wrists were cuffed together in front of them, a short chain running from the cuffs to act as a lead.

The guards led them through a doorway flanked by twin  
ice sculptures of dryads holding ice-carved tree limbs into a large dining chamber. Two mirrors stretching across the north and south walls created the illusion of an even larger space. An immense chandelier of ice crystals hung from the ceiling. Below was a crescent-shaped dining table.

Master Radosek and Lady Nazhena rose from the table. The lady was a tall, striking woman with snow-white skin and hair pulled back from her impish face into an intricate knot. Her glacial blue eyes alighted on the three captives at once.

“Let’s have my wolves test your gift,” said Lady Nazhena. She jerked her chin at the three guards at her side, each wearing a long, white fur cloak.

The guards stepped around the table, grinning. As they approached the captives, their forms shifted. The cloaks on their backs grew around their lengthening, muscling limbs.

In only a few steps, the guards had transformed into three, bear-sized wolves with white fur and a rime of frost around their muzzles. Their eyes were pale blue, almost white in color like their mistress’. Not surprising, given these were the winter wolves of a winter witch.

Lord Radosek’s guards, meanwhile, prepared the trembling captives. They pulled the chain leads down around the spreader bar and locked them so that Gen, Sen, and Matveius were bent over, wrists fastened to the bar between their ankles.

They were unceremoniously kicked in the back of the knees. The captives yelped and fell onto their knees, faces smacking the icy floor. Their arms were stretched under them, between their knees to the ankles, pinned to the floor under their weight. Their asses were up in the air, completely exposed by their flimsy aprons.

The wolves’ heat prickled their bare skin from three feet away. The heat only strengthened with their approach, drawing an itch of budding sweat from under the skin. They shivered involuntarily.

Burning, tapered flesh diddled the fear-clenched holes of Gen and Matveius’ anuses and the dry lips of Sen’s slit. The captives couldn’t suppress a despairing whimper.

Heavy paws gripped down around the full flesh of their hips and asscheeks. Razor-sharp claw tips broke the taut, curved skin of their asses. Gen, Sen, and Matveius hissed in pain through their gritted teeth. Those bloody pricks were nothing compared to what came next.

The wolves staked their thick, burning cocks through ass and cunt, hard, fleshy knots slamming their asscheeks like a beating fist. The captives’ clenched shafts ripped to shreds under the wolves’ heavy, hammering dicks.

Gen, Sen, and Matveius screamed, jerking and bucking their hips trapped in the wolves’ claws. Their locked arms and forehead banged mindlessly into the floor.

The wolves climbed over their humped bodies into a full, raping mount. They shoved their captives’ chests to the floor under their weight as their claws hooked through the skin of their shoulders. With their new, heavier grip, the wolves had the might and downward angle to shove the full fist of their knots through the tight, protesting mouths of their assholes and pussy.

Gen, Sen, and Matveius screeched inhuman noises into the floor. Their bodies bucked into writhing quivers under their mounted, knotted rapists, pain wracking up the full arch of their spines. For all their screams and sobs and shaking, the wolves wouldn't stop.

They were in full heat and locked by their knots into an anus and pussy splitting pummeling. Their pistoning dicks wedged deeper and deeper into their captive's shafts, forcing their walls into ever tightening spasms.

Gen, Seen, and Matveius’ battered anuses and cunt helplessly clamped around the wolves’ dick and knot impaling them. The wet, agonized squeeze of their rawed walls wrang pump after pump of burning cum into their assholes and pussy.

Snot and tears ran from the captives’ bruised faces. But the knotted wolves continued their raping rut, their seed swelling their captives’ clenching shafts to the bursting tautness of water balloons.


	3. Jailbirds

Lady Nazhena was pleased with the new playthings for her guards. It helped that the winter wolves were in heat and had already fucked the last three cum toilets to death. Once her guards had satiated their knotted lust, she had them drag Gen, Sen, and Matveius’ comatose, cum-leaking bodies onto the sleigh.

Neither of the three woke as the winter witch’s dog-driven sleigh sailed over hills and vales of snow to the great city of Whitethrone. The outer walls towering thirty feet appeared as giant, sharpened femurs fused together. Massive skulls of the same bone-bleached stone topped the walls, staring with blank gazes out into the icy wastes. 

The traveling party disembarked. Lady Nazhena left her guards to return to the garrison on foot. She herself entered a horse-drawn carriage to return to the palace.

The guards carried the three captives down crooked roads of frozen mud, churned and trampled from the traffic of countless feet. Wooden houses painted in light pastels lined the streets, their rooftops steeply pitched to keep the heavy snow sliding off into the ubiquitous snowdrifts.

The garrison was much the same, only larger and unpainted. Gen, Sen, and Matveius were taken to the garrison dungeons. The guards left them in the frilly black aprons. 

They assumed the fey used magic, so clapped Matveius’ wrists in tight, cold iron cuffs behind their back. Gen and Sen, presumed less dangerous, were cuffed in shackles in front of their bodies. All three were tossed into the same stone cell under the watchful leer of Warden Agara.

Agara was an ice troll, standing ten feet tall when not hunched and weighing in at a muscled and fatty nine hundred pounds. She had light, green-blue skin and cold, beady eyes. Her tusked jaw jutted forth in the typical troll underbite.

Agara licked her meaty lips at the sight of the twink fey’s tight ass. She hiked up her fur skirt and grabbed her green-blue cock in both hands. She snorted and grunted as she rubbed herself hot and erect.

The massive ice troll laid down on top of Matveius and prodded the mouth of their anus with her giant’s cock. The ram-horned fey mumbled in incoherent protest even in their sleep.

“Heh, heh, heh,” Agara laughed, her blubbery belly and sagging breasts jiggling against Matveius’ crushed body. She grabbed their shoulders in her clawed hands and dragged herself up their backside, screwing their giant cock up his tiny anal shaft.

Matveius woke with a scream in their chest but unable to scream. The weight on their back was too great. They were crushed and pinned to the stone floor of their cell, their arms useless behind them. They grunted and shrieked through their nose instead to the rhythm of the ice troll pulverizing their ass against the floor.

Agara only laughed harder, her jiggles shaking the raped twink under her. Her cock ripped Matveius’ straining walls apart, pounding them into taut sheets of spasming nerve.

Matveius foamed at the foam, jerking and twitched under her crushing, raping weight. Their nasal wails pitched higher, sharper, and more desperate.

Gen and Sen’s eyes winced open to the horrifying scene. The massive ice troll pistoned her massive cock in and out of Matveius’ ass, squashing the fey flat under her. Her tongue lolled from her open mouth, drool slopping onto their horned head.

“Help me,” mouthed Matveius, their crushed lungs unable to produce sound.

Gen and Sen crawled as quietly as they could behind and to either side of the humping, raping troll. Agara, grunting like a sow in heat, paid them no mind as she thrust herself harder, deeper and faster up Matveius’ tight, squeezing anus.

Gen and Sen nodded at each other over her back. They rushed the ice troll, throwing the chains of their shackles over her head and neck from either side. The twins twisted their chains and dug in their heels, pulling with all their might.

Agara’s grunt choked off into a squeal of shock. The head of her cock hit Matveius’ wall just right as the lack of oxygen stabbed right up into her brain. Seed exploded from her cock. Her eyes rolled back into her skull with a woozy, senseless grin.

Gen and Sen twisted and pulled harder with each emptying pump of her massive dick. Agara dropped, choked and orgasmed into unconsciousness on top of the fey. The twins loosed their chains and dragged Matveius out from under her.

Matveius rolled onto their back, coughing and gasping for air like a drowning fey. The ice troll’s seed oozed out between their trembling legs.

“Look at that, you’re alive,” Gen huffed, supporting herself on her knees.

“So is she,” said Sen, pointing a thumb at the shallowly breathing Agara.

“She’s the FUCKING warden,” panted Matveius. “Grab her FUCKING keys.”

Gen and Sen shared a look. They scrambled to the warden’s sides, searching her belt. Gen unbuckled the leather. Sen snatched the keys.

Once they’d all been freed of their cuffs, Matveius shook out their aching wrists and flexed their cramped fingers. “Mother Monster’s sagging tits.”

“Now what?” said Gen.

“I can hear more guards upstairs,” said Sen.

“They’re no longer our concern,” said Matveius, Black Rider of Baba Yaga. They laced their fingers and cracked their knuckles. “I’m taking us to Baba Yaga’s Dancing Hut.”

Black magic burst through the cell, ringing against stone and iron. The winter wolves above ran down the stairs into the dungeon. They flung open the heavy iron door.

Gen, Sen, and Matveius had vanished, leaving only the ice troll warden passed out in a puddle of her own cum. The guards looked from one to the other.

“Should we report this?”

“I’m thinking...no.”


	4. Free the Hut

Gen and Sen opened their eyes. They stood on either side of Matveius in the snowy clearing of a dark, evergreen forest. A wooden hut stood before them on enormous chicken legs restlessly scratching the ground, but a giant iron manacle on a chain bolted to a spike in the frozen earth, shackled the hut in place.

A giant-bone fence formed a pen around the hut. Two fey corpses had been impaled upon the sharpened bone pickets. Ravens hopped and flutter over the bodies, pecking at the choicest bits of flesh.

The naked man had red hair, antlers, and the legs of a goat. The naked woman was covered by her soft white fur now stained with blood.

Matveius hissed at the sight. They pointed at the man, their voice thick with angry, mourning tears. “Esun, the Red Rider.”

They pointed at the woman. “Brighrin, the White Rider. I will avenge you both.”

Gen and Sen followed the last rider silently into the pen. It was obvious who'd done this--Elvanna, the usurper queen who'd nearly killed Matveius as well.

The sole survivor opened one hand at their side. Black smoke manifested into a black greatsword in their hand. Matveius took the hilt in both hands. With a mighty swing, the iron chain severed beneath their blade. The sword dissolved once more into vanishing smoke.

The hut danced and spun on its freed chicken legs. Each step shook the ground and snow from the trees. Gen, Sen,and Matveius grabbed each other by the arms and apron straps to stay standing.

“Hut!” Matveius shouted over the dancing din. “That's enough! Let us in!”

The hut sagged to a stop, positively dejected upon its drooping knees. It settled down to a seat on the ground. Its door opened inward like the valve of a wooden esophagus.

Gen and Sen followed Matveius into a surprisingly homey room. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters. Along the walls were shelves holding a small battalion of glass jars, bottles, and vials. 

A massive cauldron sat in the middle of the room. No fire burned under the pot, but the liquid within bubbled and churned, whorls of white smoke rising and lapping over the brim. Followed by a shrivelled head.

Gen and Sen shrieked in horror, but Matveius shushed and waved at them for silence.

“It's just Zorka, spirit of the house,” he said.

Indeed, the crone with a long break, donkey ears, goat horns, and three sagging, feathered tits was one of the odder fey they'd encountered, but bore them no malice.

“Zorka, we seek to free Baba Yaga from Elvanna's imprisonment,” said Matveius.

The kikimora nodded sagely. She did not open her beak in speech, but her voice rang in their heads nonetheless. “I know where Elvanna has secreted away the mistress, but this magic dungeon can only be unlocked by the power of its three keys. Each key lies in the grasp of of Elvanna's most trusted allies. You must be timely, Matveius, and thus you cannot do this alone.”

“I understand, Zorka, as do my companions. I ask that you bestow upon them the mantles of the Red and White Riders that they may help me in this task.”

“Wait, weren't those the dead peeps on the fence?” said Gen.

“I can teleport back to the winter wolf prison if you'd prefer,” Matveius growled under their breath.

“No, nope, just clearing that up,” Sen said hastily.

“If you are willing to take upon their mantle, their loyalty to Baba Yaga, and their enmity of Elvanna,” said Zorka, nonplussed, “I will transfer their power to you.”

“We will it,” said the twins.

Zorka nodded sagely. Her feathered breasts swelled with milk. “Then come, all three of you. Drink from my bosom and fulfill your destiny.”

Gen and Sen shared a look, and then another as Matveius crossed the room to kneel before the cauldron. The fey took Zorka's full, middle breast in their hands and suckled like a calf at the teat.

Gen and Sen walked haltingly to either side of the Black Rider. Each took a warm, heavy, and feathered tit in hand. They gave the swollen nipple a cautious lick. When a gush of milk did not spurt them in the face, the twins took the nipples into their mouths and sucked.

The twins' eyes widened, dilated. Milk as rich and sweet as cream mixed with honey trickled from the teat. They latched on as greedy as the suckling runts of a litter and drank Zorka's breasts dry to the last drop, licking the nipples clean.

A warmth and heady peace blanketed their barely-clothed bodies. Gen, Sen, and Matveius slipped from their knees to the cottage floor, falling into the dancing hut's transportative sleep.


End file.
